


Silent Savior

by FFanon



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Knights - Freeform, Monks, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 07:14:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFanon/pseuds/FFanon
Summary: While on their religious journey to deliver the relic, The Mute comes to your rescue. You join the group of men and grow close to the quiet man.





	Silent Savior

They had been traveling for two weeks so far. Two weeks into their long journey to bring the religious relic to Rome. 

 

The Mute was no monk, but he had found a home with them. No words ever spoken, but they accepted him with no question. He did as asked and never wavered. Once a soldier, always a soldier he guesses.

 

Your lungs burn as you push yourself to run even faster.  As upsetting as it was that the horse broke it’s leg, it gave you a real chance to get away.  The knight still chased you though, determined to bring you back. Determined to show the King what a loyal subject he was. 

 

Passing through a forest, the group stopped momentarily and looked into the trees when they heard a man shouting in the distance.  The Mute, always at the ready, slowly lowers his yoke in case he’s needed to protect the relic, or the monks. The group stays still for a minute when your scream is heard next. At the sound of a woman in distress, The Mute takes off running towards the sound.  His monk brothers yelling for him to stop. 

 

“You will pay worse for running from the King!” the man sneers at you as he tries to wrestle you into submission. He tackled you from behind which is why you screamed.  You keep kicking and yanking your arms in an effort to break free, but ultimately you knew this was it.  The knight finally punches you after having enough of you and you fall unconscious.  Just as he starts to smile in victory, a blur of brown tackles him from the side. The Mute knocks the man off of you and proceeds to deliver only enough punches to knock the knight out. 

 

Once he does, he wipes his bloody knuckles on his pants and stands up. Walking over to where you lay, he takes a knee next to you. His hands hover over your bleeding lip and over your body, unsure of what to do. 

 

“We cannot leave him! He is needed to fulfill this task and to ensure our journey is successful!” one brother argues with the eldest monk who suggests they continue on without The Mute. Before he can argue back, they hear movement in the trees and find The Mute carrying your unconscious body in his arms. 

 

“What is this?!” the eldest monk asks with displeasure. 

 

Brother Cathal looks at you and sees you’re bleeding from your lip. He also takes into account your disheveled hair and dirty dress. He looks to The Mute. 

 

“This is the woman who screamed?”  

 

The Mute nods in response. 

 

“Was she in trouble?” 

 

Again, a nod. 

 

Brother Cathal looks to the eldest, Brother Ciaran, “We must help her. She should travel with us until we find her a place to go.” 

 

Everyone looks to him until he sighs in annoyance, “Alright! Set her down on the cart, but away from the relic!” 

 

Someone moves the relic more towards the front of the cart and shifts a few more things to the side. The newest and youngest monk, Brother Diarmuid sets down a lambskin where The Mute gently lays you down. 

 

In minutes, everyone is back in formation and walking once again. As The Mute takes up the rear, hauling the yoke, his eyes are almost always on you, waiting for you to wake. 

 

About 15 minutes in, your eyes open slowly and immediately you feel yourself moving.  In seconds, you’re sitting up. You hear someone exclaim “She’s awake!” and then the men and the cart stop moving. 

 

“Who are you?! Please don’t take me back! Please!” you panic as everything is overwhelming.  If you weren’t surrounded, you’d attempt to run. 

 

The Mute saw you sit up and he slowed until everyone stopped. He put the yoke down and watched as Brother Diarmuid stepped forward first. 

 

“You are safe! We are monks from a small monastery on the coast.”

 

Tears roll down your face and The Mute takes a small step forward. 

 

“Don’t take me back, I’ll do anything, please,” you sincerely beg. 

 

Brother Cathal approaches, “Take you back where? What trouble did you find yourself in?”

 

“To the king. He...his men ransacked our village. They slaughtered our people, took the young women so that we could be slaves to him,” you say with disgust, “I was able to escape before we got to the gates, but...but they wouldn’t let me get away…” you pause then look at them, including The Mute, “H..how did you find me? How did you get me away?” 

 

You watch as they all glance at the man in the back, the muscular man with a mop of curly hair and a dark beard.  He looks almost shy about the sudden attention. 

 

“Our brother here heard your scream and came to your rescue.”

 

You look at this man who saved you, “Thank you.”  He simply gives a quick nod in return. 

 

“He doesn’t speak. Hasn’t since we found him,” the young monk informs you. 

 

You look at the man again, who glances your way briefly. 

 

“We are on our way to Rome to deliver something of religious importance. You may continue on with us, but we cannot promise for how long. If you choose to stay, you will walk like the rest of us. Understood?” the eldest monk bluntly states. 

 

You have nowhere else to go so you decide easily. You get off the cart and face the older man, “Understood. Thank you all,” and you turn to look at The Mute, “so much.”

 

The Mute stays back as do you and the young monk.  You can’t help but glance over your shoulder at the curly haired man every so often. Sometimes his eyes are on the ground and sometimes you find him looking back at you. It’s both unsettling, yet comforting which confuses you. 

 

As night falls, they all stop in a grassy area to settle for the evening.  You stay to yourself a bit, not feeling particularly welcome yet.  As the monks sit around the fire, you sit in the circle yet away from them. Despite the fire in front of you, the windy chill makes you shiver and hug your body.  

 

A brush on your arm makes you turn your head. The Mute is on his knee, his calfskin jacket opened to you as an offering.  

 

“You’ve already done enough for me,” you say gently. 

 

He gestures with the jacket again, as if to say you’re wrong.  You look into his soft eyes before giving a small nod and he’s holding it as you slip your arms in, draping it over your shoulders once they’re in.  It’s big and it’s so warm from his body heat. 

 

He then stands up and walks back to the cart where you see him tend to the horse.  You pull his coat tighter around you and soon enough you feel your eyelids getting heavy.  You lay down and fall asleep in minutes. 

 

It’s morning when you wake up, but you’re not in the spot you fell asleep in.  Instead, you’re next to the cart and by your feet is The Mute who has his knees bent in front of him, arms resting on top, head leaning back against the cart, asleep. 

 

Except he wasn’t asleep. When you sit up, he opens his eyes too fast for someone who was sleeping.  You still have his coat on, too.

He lifts his head and drops a knee to straighten out his leg. 

 

“Did you move me over here?” you ask quietly. 

 

He looks into your eyes for a second before he nods. 

 

“Did you stay here all night?” 

 

He nods again, small. 

 

You give a hint of a smile then you make the move to remove his coat despite the chill still in the air. He lightly touches the sleeve of the coat and shakes his head; he wants you to keep it on. 

 

Before you can say anything, the young monk comes over and hands you and The Mute a small piece of bread for breakfast.  He stays and eats with you two. 

 

“Did you rest well?” he asks.

 

“As best as one can outside,” you give him a small smile. 

 

The Mute finishes first then stands up and walks away. 

 

As you look at Brother Diarmuid with a questioning look, he shakes his head, “He’s alright. He always goes off by himself in the morning for some time.” 

 

After a few minutes of talking with him, he leaves to speak with the others and you decide to let curiosity get the best of you and go look for silent man. 

 

You carefully walk into the woods where he had entered and after a few minutes, you spot him through the trees. The first thing you notice is that he’s shirtless. He’s kneeling and his arms are out to his sides. 

 

You quietly move closer at a slow pace. A giant tattoo of a cross adorns his back along with numerous scars that make your heart hurt. His head is leaned back a bit and you realize he’s either praying or meditating. Either way you feel like you’re intruding. As you take a step back, a twig breaks under your step. 

 

His head lowers but you quickly leave before you see him look over his shoulder at you. 

 

When you make it back to the cart, you shrug off his coat and fold it over your arm. The monks seem to be praying off in the distance. It’s not long before you hear footsteps behind you and you’re nervous but you still turn around. 

 

“I’m sorry! I was just seeing if you were okay and I didn’t mean to disturb you in any way,” and his face stays neutral which is not helpful. 

 

“Those scars...were you in battle?” you find the courage to ask. 

 

His brows knit together and there’s a slight flare of his nostrils. 

 

“It’s not for me to ask, I’m sorry,” you feel horrible. 

 

He doesn’t walk away so you start rambling on.  

 

“I cannot thank you enough for helping me. Those...men, they killed my family,” and when those first few tears roll down your cheeks, his face softens.

 

“And the slaves they wanted us for...it was...they wanted to use us...to force themselves on,” you wipe at your tears and notice that he takes a step closer. 

 

“So just...thank you...again,” and you offer him his coat back. He gently pushes it back to you and points to the sky in the distance.

 

Storm clouds heading your way. 

 

“But you…” You wanted him to be protected from the rain, to not suffer for you. But he just shakes his head, his hand still on the coat draped over your arm.

 

You look at him and softly ask, “You truly have not spoken since they found you?”

 

You slowly place your hand over his and though he seems to tense up, he doesn’t pull it away.

 

“What are you punishing yourself for?” And when you say that, he looks at you. Looks at you with a slight furrow of his brows, as if to say ‘how do you know’.  You feel his thumb briefly rub against your hand before you hear the monks approaching and you both step away from each other. 

 

As The Mute pointed out, it  _ did _ end up raining into your travels. The wind whipped hard and even with his coat on, you still were freezing as the wind barreled down on you from behind. 

 

The rain still pelted all of you, but you notice the wind has decreased a good amount. But as you look at those in front of you, the back of their robes were still blowing fiercely.  With a glance behind you, you find The Mute walking directly behind you now, taking the brunt of the wind chill for you. 

 

You feel the warmth of your cheeks, despite the chill, due to the fact that this man has been looking out for you since he saved you. 

The rain stops mid-afternoon so by the time night falls, all of you are mostly dried.  As you all sit by the fire, you decide to take out the braid that lays against the crown of your head. Since it was braided, portions of your hair are still damp and you want them to fully dry. As you finger comb through the waves, you neglect to see your curly haired savior, eyeing you from across the flames. 

 

His expression is soft and dare even say a tiny smirk plays at his lips as he gets lost in watching you playing with your hair. Your hair that looks so soft, he wonders what it might be like to feel it run through his own fingers. 

 

Once you all eat a little cured meat for dinner, everyone breaks from the fire to settle into the grass for the night. You’ve become accustomed to sleeping next to the cart and with The Mute nearby. 

 

He tends to sit against the cart instead of laying down. It can’t be comfortable. Tonight you decide to try and change that. You grip his bicep gently which causes him to look at you. 

 

“You can lay down, it’s okay. I’ll lay right here and you can lay here,” pointing next to you but with some space in between, “if that makes you feel better.”  You smile at him since you know he likes to stay close to protect you if you needed. 

 

He doesn’t move so you give a small shrug and lay down.  After a couple minutes, you hear him moving and all of a sudden you see him lay down about a foot away from you.  He rests his hands on his torso. With a smile, you close your eyes and fall asleep rather quickly. 

 

He looks at you and he feels his heart start racing. You look so peaceful and beautiful. You end up being the last thing he sees before falling asleep. 

 

When you wake up, your eyes need to adjust to the pitch black. It’s obviously the middle of the night. It’s when you hear him moving next to you that you realize why you woke up. He’s breathing heavy and his legs are moving as his head moves every now and then. As your eyes adjust, you see the way his face is twisted in pain and it hits you that he’s having a nightmare of some sort. 

 

You move to your knees and press them against him. Finding his hand, you slip yours into it and his fingers wrap around it instantly. With your other hand, you slowly comb your fingers through his hair as you look down at his face.  It’s a couple minutes later when he simultaneously grabs your forearm so tight that it hurts and his eyes shoot open, looking around quickly before realizing where he was and who was tending to him. 

 

His grip on your arm loosens and you see him glance at it. 

 

“It’s okay…” you soothe him, “ _ You’re _ okay.” 

 

His eyes don’t leave your face, even as you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. As you lean down, he slowly reaches a hand up and delicately runs his fingertips through your hair hanging over your shoulder.  

 

You only lean back enough to see his whole face again. He withdraws his hand, uncertain if he overstepped even though you just kissed his head. You keep your eyes on his, your hand still smoothing through his hair, as you take your hand from his hold. You pick up his hand that was just in your hair and place it gently on your cheek. 

 

“It’s okay,” you whisper again. 

 

His hand stays flat against your cheek for a second before you feel his fingertips mold to your skin more. His thumb is what moves,

 

He smooths it under your eye and you give him a small smile.  You mirror the situation when you move your hand from his hair to cup his cheek. 

 

The hairs of his short beard nestle against your palm and you brush the edge of it by his jaw. 

 

Your own expression softens even more when you feel his thumb start lightly tracing your top lip. His eyes follow his own thumb. As it moves to the corner of your mouth, you close your eyes briefly as you feel it trace along the bottom of your lower lip.  When you open them, he’s no longer watching his own actions, he’s looking at you. 

 

You run your own thumb under his lip. Then you move your hand from his face, instead sweetly running the back of your fingers along his beard before laying back down next to him. His hand naturally withdraws from your cheek as you lay down, but he keeps looking at you. In the darkness, your hand finds his. And you feel him gently squeeze it. 

 

As your eyelids start to feel heavy, he brings your hand to his mouth where you feel his slightly chapped lips brush your knuckles, his beard tickling your skin.  A smile on your face as you drift to sleep. 

 

And since then, the nights become your ritual. 

 

Once everyone is asleep and the sun has fully set, you both take in seeking the other. It’s innocent. Just a hold of a hand or a caress of a cheek.  You usually always start first because you can sense his hesitation still. But one night, that changes. 

 

You wake up with a start, tears fresh on your face, from the nightmare you had of the destruction of your village and murders of your family.  But he’s already moved to be right next to you. He’s been wiping your tears as you dreamt and when you wake up, you grip his shirt right away as his hand cups your cheek. 

 

All he does is press his forehead to yours as his thumb smooths across your chin. He just stays like that until you catch your breath. And you find his simple gesture so calming.  Slow breaths you take until you’re breathing normal. 

 

\--

 

Everyone is quietly walking along, as usual, when you all hear rustling in the leaves of the woods that surround you.  

 

At the sound, everyone stills.  Before anyone can even make a decision, the whizzing sound of an arrow flies through the air, hitting a tree. 

 

The Mute grabs you and hits the ground. He pushes you under the cart and holds his hand up telling you to stay. 

 

You go to grab him as he leaves you but he’s too fast. You flatten to the ground and cover your head as the sounds of fighting begin. 

 

You hear the sounds finally end, but you hear the young monk crying, “It’s me!” 

 

Lifting your head, you slowly come out from under the cart and see The Mute on top of Brother Diarmuid, hands on his neck. He’s splattered with blood and you can tell by his face that he isn’t himself. 

 

You rush over, falling on your knees as you grasp his face, “Let him go! It’s over! It’s over!” 

 

He looks at you and you see the recognition set in before he’s quickly looking down at the monk. Then he gets off of him and sits on the ground as he takes a shuddering breath. 

 

You go to him and like he did that night for you, you take his face in your hands and press your forehead to his. 

 

“It’s over, it’s okay,” you whisper. You embrace him in a hug and he holds you tight as he calms down. 

 

“We...we need to go,” the young monk utters. 

Both of you let go and stand up. His looks at you briefly before the three of you look at the carnage. Every single savage dead as is one of the monks. 

 

The monks shakily check to see if the relic was taken and they breathe a sigh of relief to see that it’s safe. 

 

You look over his body and see he has a gash by his ribs. As you press your hand to the wound, you’re in his face, “You’re bleeding!”  He grasps the side of your neck and presses his hand over yours. 

 

“We leave now! We shall tend to him once we are safe!” the elder monk instructs. 

 

As you turn to argue with him, The Mute shakes his head at you.  He steps back and goes to pick up his yoke, but you grab his shoulder. 

 

“No, we will carry it until I can look at your wound.” 

 

The young monk sees you look at him then motion to the yoke and he gets the hint. 

 

You and Brother Diarmuid each take an end and shakily lift it up, holding it to your shoulders. The man tries to help but you give him a glare and he begrudgingly listens to what you silently say. 

 

It’s several miles before you stop for the night. Putting the yoke down was a giant relief; your shoulder ached bad now. 

 

You immediately grab the satchel of medicinal supplies and take his arm leading him away from the group and over to where you hear a babbling brook. 

 

At the water’s edge, you sit him down and grab a cloth, wetting it in the water. 

 

“I...I need you to take off your shirt.” 

 

He hisses as he moves but he still slowly pulls it off. Seeing his scarred body up close makes tears form but you quickly will them away. 

 

His body tightens when you wash his wound causing it to sting horribly. You then find the herbs needed and rub his wound before grabbing more cloth and wrapping it around his torso. 

 

Once you finish, you can’t help yourself - you grasp his cheek and nuzzle your nose against his. Warmth embraces the back of your head as his hand covers it. 

 

Before anything can happen, approaching footsteps are heard and you pull back from one another.  He pulls his shirt back on just as Brother Diarmuid appears. 

 

“Is he alright?” 

 

You see the man next to you glance your way before looking at the monk and nodding to answer for himself. 

 

\--

 

That night you lay close to him as soon as possible.  His hand goes to your hair and you take a quiet breath before slipping a hand under his shirt. He stills as you trace some of his raised scars. 

 

“Whatever happened to you when you received these….you aren’t that person anymore. You probably never truly were,” and you whisper it so low but he hears you easily. 

 

You shiver as his fingertips brush the shell of your ear. 

 

His beard brushes against your temple and you feel his nose against your cheek. 

 

When you lift your face, your mouths align perfectly.  It’s both of you who leans in first. Kissing one another for the first time. 

 

His hand is over your ear as his fingers massage gently into your hair. You tenderly grip his side under his shirt where your hand still lays. 

 

It’s soft and sweet. He presses a couple more kisses to your soft lips before you both separate completely. With the people you’re traveling with, any kind of romance would not go over well so you always make sure to fall asleep apart.

 

\--

 

The day you make it to Rome, is the day you also find out that all those nights of kissing him meant just as much to him as it did to you. 

 

Brother Ciaran meets with the officials inside the castle as you all wait outside.  When he returns, he’s followed by three knights. 

 

One knight takes the relic as expected. As you all happen to watch the man remove it from the cart, you’re grabbed by the other two knights. 

 

“Hey! Let me go!” but your struggles are quickly proven to be useless. 

 

The Mute lunges at them, eyes wild as he tries to get you out of their hold. 

 

“They take her too Brother!” the eldest shouts to his mute brother.  Two more knights come out and punch The Mute then hold him back as he fights their hold with such force. 

 

“What? Why?” you cry as you realize you’ll end up in the same situation as you were going to all those weeks ago. 

 

“We provide what they ask,” is all he says. 

 

Your love glares at the man then looks at you, at how terrified you look, how you’re looking right at him pleading to not let them take you. 

 

Everyone freezes when he emits a loud roar of a yell. He rips the men from his arms and grabs a sword from one before killing them both. One knight lets you go in order to fight him, but he kills that knight too. The other knight lets you go and runs back inside the castle. 

 

You cling to him in a hug as he wraps his free arm around you. 

 

“I knew it! You are involved with this wench!”

 

And The Mute silently snarls at his words. 

 

“You decide now! No woman is allowed at our refuge. You come with us or stay behind and pay for your sins!”

 

He doesn’t take a step. Instead he runs a hand down your hair and kisses your head as he keeps his eyes on the older monk. 

 

“Fool!” The monks gather their things and start moving out. Except Brother Diarmuid does not follow. 

 

He looks at his quiet friend, “I want to stay with you both.” 

 

The man gives a short nod. He drops the sword to wrap his other arm around you. He puts his mouth to your ear and whispers, “I love you.”

 

In surprise you look at him. He gives you a small smile before you're kissing him.  

 

With a short laugh of disbelief and a smile on your face, “I love you too.” 


End file.
